Hogwarts and the Deathly Ones
by weregrrl
Summary: Hogwarts was abandoned after the war. Considered little more than a reminder of past greatness and great pain, it sat for 30 years unattended. When a mysterious message blazes its way across Europe, will hope be restored? Can a ball save the school? More than that, can it save people? Amidst festivities, a broken family, a displaced youth, and an undead girl all seek to heal.


**A/N: _Mandatory disclaimer: I'm tired, desperate, and sleep on a couch. It's not even my couch. Guess who I'm not affiliated with?_**

 ** _Silliness aside, enjoy!_**

* * *

The festivities were the talk of Wizarding Britain from the moment they were announced. There hadn't been a ball held in Hogwarts since the last Triwizard Tournament, and certainly not a ball in July! The idea had sprung from the need to celebrate the castle's revival after the almost thirty years of it sitting condemned since the war. After numerous unsuccessful attempts to restore the castle to its former glory, Hogwarts had been but a tragic memory in the minds of the public. Until the fateful day of May 3rd, when magnificently large phoenix patroni had burst into life in the middle of every crowded street in Wizarding Europe announcing that the legendary school was again accepting enrollments, and of course, that there was to be an entire _week_ of festivities _._ This revelation was instantly covered by every news outlet, was examined from every angle, protested, reviled, whispered about, and rejoiced. The Ministry released a statement denying any involvement in the successful restoration, yet confirmed that the grounds had been inspected by a qualified team and the castle was indeed habitable. This sent the world into an even greater flurry. Witches and wizards from the farthest reaches of the earth were drawn to the castle, both for the occasion and for the hope of sneaking a glance at the ones who had made the castle alive again.

* * *

Lily sat on the balustrade trying to ignore the chattering coming from just beyond the castle walls. The guests, all of the wizarding world as it was, were arriving. They didn't see her from the Astronomy Tower. She was too small and slim to be noticed from such a height. And too dead. Not that she minded. She wasn't one who enjoyed being seen – not like the ghosts – and she had work to do besides. The festivities were a distraction and a sales pitch to the parents of potential students, nothing else. It had taken a lot of effort to make the castle look this good – this _new –_ but it wasn't yet complete. The wards were weak, and wavered about her like a sea of one thousand half-formed ideas. They were holding, but they needed help. Substance. They needed to be _fed_.

Salazar had explained numerous times the exact method of extracting magic from a soul without causing lasting harm. He had been the original architect in charge of maintaining wards after all, and had offered so much of his soul to the castle; did still. But the Founders were weak wraiths, cursed to eternal slumber from one thousand years of tearing their very essence out to keep the ceiling painted with stars and the staircases swinging to an unpredictable, yet perfected, schedule. The ones who maintained the bulk of their magicks were the castle's other occupants, of which there were currently none. None who lived enough to give magic, anyway.

It still seemed silly to the girl as she swung out to watch the encroaching crowd, that in the past they had wondered so little why the Sorting process was fundamental to the learning experience the school was known for. The Hat didn't just group together children of like ambitions, but like magical signatures. Those who could best amplify Ravenclaw's tricky air-based charms were made to live in the Sky's Nest, a comfortable quarter near the very peak of the castle; those who held the earth in their spirits would be best for Helga's grounding magicks, and quickly gained residence in the Badgers' Den. And with luck, there would be enough magic to give tonight to keep the castle life support on. If there wasn't everyone whom Lily loved was dead. Deader than she considered herself to be.

* * *

Harry Potter marched through the heavy iron gates with an equally heavy heart and a prominent limp. His last visit to the castle had been a very long time ago, when he was on the reparation team. It was the last time he would set foot there ever again, he had sworn at the time. He had held his ground too – even with his mangled leg. But his wife thought they should celebrate the reopening of their childhood 'home' of sorts, and so he forced his feet forward, one tired step at a time.

This was no home. This was a battleground, still littered with the memories of corpses.

* * *

Scorpius was old enough to have graduated Hogwarts, yet he came to the grand re-opening ball still, in place of the father who couldn't. He was curious to say the least. He had heard much of the school and his family's long legacy therein. He hadn't been told this information by said family, of course. It was through the freedom and subsequent boredom of homeschooling that he had even heard mention of the prolific building and his place in its history, or future, to be precise. A letter had arrived early one morning last month. The sender had messy handwriting, and had obviously not updated from quills to muggle pens, judging by the amount of lilac feather stains across the parchment. His family was still listed as a benefactor of the school, with a honorary position on the school's Governing Committee. The sender had wished to know if the Malfoys intended to retain the role bestowed upon them. Tonight he was determined to find out if the place he had longed for growing up was still worth the expense.

* * *

Lily held Rowena's wrist. Her pulse was non-existent, but that in itself was normal. What was not normal, was the black crags covering the sleeping woman's arm like inky rivers. Her own phantom heart pumped with anxiety. The sickness was setting back in. The guests had not even arrived yet, and Lady Ravenclaw was on the brink of collapsing. Lily's mind raced with what that would mean: the ceilings would fall in, no longer held up by the woman's once-immense magic, the more complex spells on the Ravenclaw Guard would fall as well, meaning the wayward spirits would not be able to tell friend from foe. Anyone who set foot inside the gates would be skewered! With little trepidation, the dead witch gripped Rowena's hand until ghastly black cracks appeared where her ghostly fingertips cut into the flesh. With a shuddering grunt, Lily was encased in a pearlescent glow, which faded quickly as it seeped into Rowena's wounds, swiftly closing them. At the end of it, an onlooker might stumble upon a pale beauty sleeping peacefully, hand outstretched and clenched around the air where a dead girl lay delirious on the floor. Had there been any chance of onlookers, that was.

* * *

Hermione was the first one who asked him to dance, not his wife. Ginevra – for she was rarely 'Ginny' to anyone anymore – had taken Al's hand the moment the music had started, and scarcely let go since. Harry didn't mind. Ginevra loved to dance more than anything, and Albus was unnaturally skilled on his feet. The pair were lovely together – brilliant in fact. His lazy legs couldn't compete with that kind of bliss. James hadn't come to the party. He was working long shifts in St. Mungo's all week. Unsurprisingly, there was a shortage of staff during the week-long ball Hogwarts promised. His supervisor had been inundated with notes claiming everything from a contagious rash to something that sounded mysteriously like dragonpox. All lies of course. James had volunteered to take on unpaid overtime to lighten the load. Harry was proud of him for his dedication to his work, though disappointed that his son seemed to be the only Healer in the Emergency Ward that didn't put their selfish desires ahead of patients' lives. Perhaps if someone like James had been there eighteen years ago-

No. That wasn't a thought to linger upon. Not with his closest friend beaming up at him wickedly, hand outstretched. Harry took a precursory glance around the hall. Somehow, the sleek stone walls didn't seem as... _real_ as he recalled. Shaking it off, he took Hermione's hand and stumbled onto the dance floor. Albus sent a heady grin his way when he saw his father, which Harry returned tightly.

If he could bear just one night in this broken castle, perhaps his soul would weigh a little lighter in the morning light.

* * *

The restoration team hadn't shown themselves yet, Scorpius noted with a gulp of punch. It was delicious – fruity, in-your-face, yet there was something deceptive about the aftertaste. Scorpius couldn't place the sensation. If he had to describe it, he would call it 'addiction'. Whatever it was, it was good enough to delay his plans a little while to savour another cup.

The dancers flurried around him in costume robes, bright and billowing like the feathers of a peacock. His eyes briefly rested on an inelegant couple who had been pushed to the outer ring. The man's leg was mangled under his robes, and Scorpius took a moment to wonder if he had been wounded in the War. If so, he might have even known his father. Scorpius lowered his head discreetly. Perhaps it was best not to stare. There were some people you didn't want noticing you.

The young wizard turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd still bustling to reach the ballroom. Perhaps he would inspect the castle. That might sate his lifelong curiosity, not to mention, he might find the people responsible for returning the castle to its former glory.

* * *

Lily awoke to darkness, like always. The light gradually forced its way into her eyes, but with less intensity than the last time. She knew one day soon, the darkness would win. Lily didn't like to think about that, so instead, she thought about the cold floor pressing into her side and the hand wrapped around hers. She noted that Rowena looked quite well, which meant that she had spent too much of the energy she had gathered from the forest-dwelling creatures. Their magic was not so predictable, but it would keep you sustained so long as you didn't try to use it for spellwork.

The witchling took the founder's hand from her grip, carefully propping it onto Lady Rowena's sickbed, and looked at the sky. Out the window, the day had shifted to a comforting darkness lit hither and tither by wisplight, not at all like the darkness that still hovered at the edge of her eyesight, waiting. There were still people on the lawn, mostly gossiping or sipping wine, which meant that the party had begun. Lily was not concerned that she had missed the beginning of the ball. It would have started with or without her, so long as the castle stood. She was pleased with the turnout on the grounds. There were still wizards pulling up in carriages, fashionably late, and scurrying through the wrought iron gates. She silently thanked them for being there. The witch had a feeling she would have lain on the floor for far longer had there not been so much magic in the air to feed her spectral form. A glance at the newly reinforced wall near the lake confirmed that the castle was fairly drunk off the presence of its guests. The stone looked new, though it was not, with the lake sparkling in the lowlight. Lily wrinkled her nose. It was all due to a glamour of course. The lake was black with refuse and decomposing merfolk. She was sure there were at least three inferi held down under the currents with rock that had crumbled off the castle a few months ago, and a basilisk husk that had been flushed out the sewage system along with thousands of rat bones. Luckily, there was also a ward at work preventing anyone from reaching the water.

Lily sighed. The former school was still in bad repair, but it was inhabitable, and with the presence of other magical beings, it should heal completely within the year. If she could get parents interested in enrolling at a school with undead professors, that was. Godric had assured her this week of festivities would be enough to have all four founders on their feet once more, though she couldn't help but wonder just how long those feet would last without students to leech off. Lily hoped they weren't placing their hopes on something that would only lead to more heartbreak.

Deciding to leave this sad train of thought behind, and wishing to survey the magical folk from a closer distance, Lily left Rowena's chambers for the ones adjacent. She stared down hard at the body below her, wondering at how well it looked, and if it would stay that way for long. Closing her eyes, Lily let the stolen magic within her rise to the surface, let it bubble over onto the form on the sickbed. It was time to wake herself up.

* * *

Her joints were sore from all the growth spurts her body had experienced since she had last been inside it, and her scalp burned from the length of her hair. The flesh on her bones felt restrictive, though when she raised a hand to touch her face, it was soft. Her cheek tingled at the place where her fingertips rested. Her hand burned, too. She was too hot, too thirsty, and felt the urgent need to empty her bladder. Something much like a heart thumped inside her chest steadily. She was alive.

She wasn't entirely sure she found this state preferable to death.

* * *

None of the portraits moved, Scorpius noted as he wandered around the castle unsupervised. He had heard many tales of the rowdy crowd of painted figures that kept the occupants of the castle in line, but these pictures were neither painted, nor contained people. And they didn't move.

The wizard made to touch a particularly interesting shot of the grounds. It was a bright summer day, the grass was waving under the watchful gaze of the sun. Half the picture hadn't developed well. There were 5 colourful stripes running down the left side of the photograph. He would have guessed the stripes indicated people standing together, or perhaps house flags, but there was no indication of human features and Hogwarts only had four houses.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

Scorpius started, swinging towards the source of the words. There was a girl, probably a few years younger than him. She was not dressed for a ball, nor for this time period, yet seemed completely at ease with where she was. It appeared she had been observing him for quite some while, from the small frown on her lips.

"Uh..." he uttered, cursing himself for not being the smooth-talking, outgoing socialite he was said to be.

"Yes?" the girl asked, smoothing down her grey skirts as if she had just realised they were a mess. Except she hadn't looked down to see that. The frown increased momentarily before leaving her face.

"Um, I was just looking at these photographs," he gestured to the poorly developed picture awkwardly.

"I can see that, Sir," she replied, "Is there any way in which I can help you? Are you lost?"

It was clear from the girl's expression that she thought he shouldn't be here. He didn't want to return to the ball with questions unanswered, however, so he mustered the best air of superiority he could and stated, "My name is Scorpius Malfoy. I received a letter from whom I can only assume is the one now in charge of this castle. I'd like to discuss my options with them, if at all possible."

He tried to make it sound like a demand, but the more he talked, the wilder the girl's eyes became.

"Oh! I'm so glad you came!" she breathed, "Blossom. Nice to meet you."

She stuck our her hand to shake so swiftly it must have jarred her arm, though she didn't seem to care. Scorpius delicately returned the gesture with much less vigour.

"Blossom?" he repeated uncertainly. The girl's face went white – even moreso. She became flustered.

"Oh, um, uh-would you like to take this somewhere more private? Tea?"

"Yes, of course. Lead the way," Scorpius agreed. Blossom began darting up the stairs at a startling pace, before seeming to remember she was in proper company. She tripped to a halt, yelping a bit, glanced at the Malfoy uncertainly, and started back up the staircase with an unexpected amount of poise and grace. Scorpius watched the tangle of hair that swung to-and-fro with each movement, as if possessing a life of its own and admitted he was intrigued. Just what kind of people had made Hogwarts whole again? If they were at all like Blossom, he would perhaps need to spend more time making his decision. She reminded him of the punch from earlier – unwittingly deceptive.

* * *

 **A/N: _This was meant to be a one-shot in time for Christmas. Featuring Remus Lupin. WHOOPS.  
Clearly, I am having a lot of fun writing this. I've even been working on it daily *gasp*! I hope y'all enjoyed the plot (?) thus far, because we're going on a wild ride. Or a sleep-deprived, probably-not-so-good-grammar-ish ride, anyway. To anyone who is here from H:AM, I'm sorry. I have a problem, I know. I will get back to updating that story soon._**

If you notice any obvious errors, please tell me.

 ** _Love,_**

 ** _Lucy~!_**


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